


Chasing Rabbits

by casstayinmyass



Category: Platoon (1986)
Genre: Accidental Cuddling, Attempted Sexual Assault, Canon Compliant, Crush at First Sight, Cuddling & Snuggling, Daddy Dafoe, Eventual Romance, F/M, Flirting, Friends to Lovers, Gentle Kissing, Happy Ending, Harassment, Making Out, Misogyny, Nicknames, Pre-Canon, Protectiveness, Recreational Drug Use, Romantic Tension, Secret Relationship, Sexual Harassment, Smoking, Soldiers, Sweet/Hot, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Vietnam War, nurse reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 09:17:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18091610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/casstayinmyass/pseuds/casstayinmyass
Summary: Unwanted flirtation and the stress of working the front as a nurse causes stars to align, and you meet one gentle soldier in a million.





	Chasing Rabbits

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE read the warnings! O'Neill is an absolute pushy creep in this, and it may be triggering! xx

There'll always be one.

Every nurse has one, that's what they told you. Nurses always fall in love with soldiers. Plus, it makes for something to write home about. It would be nice, of course. You just didn't see how walking into this hell with your head in the clouds would help.

Patricia Arden, your fellow nurse and the only other nurse to accompany you to the front lines in the mobile M*A*S*H unit, hangs by your side as you sling your pack higher onto your shoulder. She's from a small town in Mississippi-- joined the war as a nurse to find a boyfriend, which isn't the smartest place to look, but hey, you're not about to judge.

The dust kicks up from the chopper blades, and you can already feel the humidity, as well as the bugs feasting on your skin.

"Look at all these men in uniform," she grins, “So groovy.”

"Yeah. You'll be seeing a lot of that, I think," you reply. She makes a face at you.

"I'd love to see what's under that one's shirt."

"Tish, the most you'll be seeing of any of these men are the fingers you're going to have to stitch back on them."

"Why do you have to be like that?" she pouts. You look away. If you didn't maintain your cynicism, the guys would treat you two like delicate little girls. That's not who you are, nor who you want to be.

 

After your introductions to your head medics and the breakdown of the platoon you'll be working with, you congregate again.

"That Sergeant Barnes..." Tish whispers to you, "He's cute."

"He scares me," you say.

"It's the scars, isn't it?" she tuts. "Hasn't anyone ever told you not to judge a book by its cover?" she mutters, "He could be the nicest man on Earth." You take another look over at Barnes, and shiver under his scowl.

"You can keep him, and his scars. He doesn't look like he'd cuddle anything but an AK 47."

"What about that one?" She points to a smoking man with curly auburn hair. Taller than Barnes, not as buff but reasonably muscular. Freckled, has a mustache.

"Mm," you consider, "Not the worst... but not my type."

From across the barracks, some of the men get a good look at you.

Chris Taylor's mouth hangs open, slack jawed as he adjusts his helmet. "Are those the new mobile nurses?"

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," Elias grins, and a playful slap on the back sends Chris on his way. But then he makes the mistake of looking over himself. You catch his eyes, and smile at him. He smiles back, giving a dopey little wave, and you giggle with Tish as you're lead away. Elias watches you walk off, running a hand through his mop of golden hair in awe. When he turns, he's met with Chris' smirk.

"You were saying, sir?"

"Get going."

 

* * *

 

 

After setting up in your quarters, you get the idea to go for a walk to see where you’ll be living for the next couple months, until your two woman unit is on the move again. Unbuttoning your jacket for a little relief, you tie your hair back in a ponytail, and step out.

About half-way to the mess tent, you're stopped by a tall body in your way. You look up from the chest you’ve bumped into. 

"You a newbie?"

It’s the redhead from earlier blocking your sun. He's got eyes running up and down your body, and it makes you want to button your jacket back up.

"You could say that."

"Very nice, very nice," he says, continuing to admire you, "Red O'Neill. What's your name, baby?"

"(y/n)."

"Mind if I join you?"

 _The last thing you want is this motormouth accompanying you._  "I was enjoying the quiet, but thanks."

"You know, I hate to cut right to the chase, but you're not making it easy for me, honey." He takes another step to walk with you. "Us guys out here get pretty lonely."

"Why?" you snark, "You have the pleasure of each other's company."

"Nah nah, babe, you don't get it. Not like that! I for one miss feelin' a woman. Like really feelin' her. You must miss feelin' a man... huh?"

"Look... I might not be the right person to ask," you try to back out, "My friend Tish--"

"Your friend don't look like you do," he says, and you finally manage to shake him, changing direction.

"It was nice to meet you, Sergeant O'Neill."

 

* * *

 

 

As you're walking past him, you focus in on a group of men talking strategy. One looks over, and does a double take when he sees you. It's the cute one from earlier. He goes to give another wave, but someone in the group nudges him. His face changes, and he's back to business.

You stare after him, unable to stop yourself from dreaming about the handsome soldier. Sgt. O'Neill sees your gaze, and he looks between you two anxiously and with no small amount of jealousy.

The meeting breaks, and the man walks over, blushing a little. Your eyes fall to his open chest, where his dog tags are hanging against sculpted, lean muscle. 

"Hi." He sets his hands on his hips, squinting in the sun. "I, uh... see you around a lot."

"Yeah, I'm just trying to get my bearings. Once I know the layout I'll stop wandering."

"Wandering is good for the soul," he says, "Never stop wandering." He blushes deeper. "Sorry. Geez. I sound like a damn croan, and I'm not even baked. I'm Elias."

"Nice to meet you, Elias," you smile, shaking his hand firmly, "I'm (y/n). What's your rank?" 

"Sergeant. But you don't gotta call me that."

"According to army regulations I do," you giggle, and he falls a little in love. Realizing he can't just stand and stare at you, that he has work to do, he straightens up.

"I hope to see you around, (y/n)."

You watch him walk off with a confident gait, and admire his arms and physique. He's pretty tall, with lithe muscles and a wiry frame. You try your hardest not to fixate on his body in your mind as you keep going... but that's getting harder by the minute.

 

* * *

 

 

 A week goes by, and you start to really see how hard the job is. Back at the static M*A*S*H unit you had shadowed in, you knew when wounded were coming from the choppers. Here at the front, the Viet Kong could strike against any of the boys-- even you-- at any moment.  

After a particularly tough day filled with casualties, you enter the mess to find a group of enlisted men playing cards.

"You're out!" O'Neill yells obnoxiously, "Full house, motherfuckers!" You sigh. Maybe if you turned around and just--

"Newbie! Babe! Over here!" he calls. You pretend not to hear, so he gets up, and physically walks you over. Barnes sees clearly how uncomfortable you look in O'Neill's arms, but he looks down and ignores it, indifferent. "(y/n)," Red says, "Meet the big boys."

You want to tell him to shove off. You want to tell him just where he can stick that cigarette that's always dangling out of his mouth. But you're a nurse, and you're scared what could happen to you.

"Hello," you say. A kid named Junior sizes you up.

"Thank you for your service, ma'am," a young guy you think is named Bunny grins, "You offer any other kinds of service?" O'Neill laughs.

"Heh, that's what I've been trying to find out! Wouldn't we like to know, heya Bobarooni?"

Barnes glances up briefly. "That's enough." Red immediately shuts up, and sits back down, smile dropping.

"So, uh... you gonna play or not, honey?"

You shake your head, managing a smile for appearances. "I need some rest. Plus, I really shouldn't be here with all of you, especially playing cards with enlisted officers."

"Least one other person in this tent's got some goddamn sense," Barnes mutters, and you take that opportunity to head out. Thinking of hazel eyes and a wide grin, you wonder where Elias is.

 

* * *

 

 

Over the course of the month, you have trouble on and off with O'Neill. You see Elias occasionally, but he's busy leading his platoon, making decisions and generally, as O'Neill really wasn't, doing his duty. You did see him around one day while you were prepping to head over to the OR.

"Sergeant," you nod, trying not to stare at his shiny biceps. He must have been training his men, cause he looks dirty, sweaty, and everything you'd love to see over top of you.

"It's  _Elias_ ," he says, blushing, (he never seemed to be able to hold a straight face around you) "I never did like to be called by rank. Even by my men."

You walk up to him. "Okay. How's the day, Elias?"

"Shit. But seeing you is already making it better." He ducks his head. "You have a nice smile."

That smile shows through. "Thanks."

He grins at you, and you drop something from your belt as you latch it up. He leans down at the same time as you, and your fingertips brush. He looks into your eyes, then down at your lips...

He stands back up, passing you what you dropped. It's a charm, a little silver peace sign.

"Where's the rest of the bracelet, flower child?" he jokes, and you smile.

"The rest of my charms are back home. This one felt appropriate to take with me."

"You know, I'm something of a hippie myself," he begins, "Out in the..." He's about to go on before he sees O'Neill marching around, torturing the new kids with a fellow soldier. He sighs, thinking of the rumors involving you and the other man. "Anyway. Nice charm. See ya around."

"Yeah," you nod, watching him go. Your thumb slides around the smooth surface of the charm.

 

* * *

 

 

That afternoon, your heart nearly stops when you see Elias being carried into the nursing tent, a little bloody and delirious.

"Out of the way," you mutter, and push through to him. "What happened?"

"River water got into his drink pack, same river a great big pig decided to die in. ‘Lias got sick, started hallucinating, and torn all to hell in the brush when he tripped."

"It's just a scratch," he gives you that stupid, infectious grin, “Although I’ve had better hallucinations.” 

It  _is_  just scratch... but that didn't stop the nightmares of losing him that night.

 

* * *

 

"You keep smiling," Tish says as you both wash blood off your hands the week after. "Who is it?"

You look down. "Nobody."

"It's gotta be somebody." She smirks. "Sergeant O'Neill, right?"

You frown. "What makes you say him?"

"It's not just me. Everybody's saying it," she whispers, "They say that other guy... Sergeant Eliott Grodin?" Your breath quickens. 

"Elias..."

"Elias. Guy’s got a thing for you. But O'Neill got to you first, they're saying. That Elias is heartbroken, I hear." She shrugs. "News carries fast in places like these. At least you didn't have to tell Elias yourself." Unaware of your trembling hands, she goes on. "Anyway, I haven't had any luck with Sergeant Barnes. He's tough as a nail to sof--"

"Sorry Tish, I have to go," you whisper, and head out, tearing your hair out of its cap. You need to drown your sorrows... the thought of hurting Elias pains you.

 

* * *

 

 

Inside the mess, you sit at the makeshift bar, and someone gives you a beer. You pop it open, and the guy who passed it to you laughs.

"You drink like a man, sweetheart." You slam the can down.

"I also suture like one too. If you get your leg blown off, have fun getting your friends to treat you."

You sigh, turning away from him. It's an empty threat, of course. This job is just hard in itself-- you didn't need all the comments as well.

"Weeeell, well well well well, look who came to see me." You freeze, eyes sliding shut. Hands fall to your shoulders, and begin to massage. "Little (y/n). Cheers, babe!" He clinks your can with his, and you feel sick to your stomach. "Wanna dance?"

"I'd rather not."

"Come on, stop being such a buzzkill!" He takes your hand, and you take it back, standing up.

"Why me?" you snap, "Huh? Why'd you pick  _me_ to bother?!"

This leaves him stunned, and more than a little embarrassed. He looks around at everyone, laughing nervously.

Dashing outside, you look behind you. He's not following. You consider putting in for a transfer, but then you'd have to leave... him.

"Everything okay?"

You turn. "Elias."

"You don't look so good. And I mean that in the best of ways." His kind smile falters as he realizes how upset you are. "(y/n), what's wrong?"

"God, I had to get away from him."

Elias looks over his shoulder, then back to you. Then he sits down on a log, patting the spot next to him. "O'Neill? What happened?" His voice softens. "Did you two have a fight or something?"

You frown. "I wouldn't even call it that. A proper fight requires someone to be emotionally invested."

Elias sparks up a hand rolled cigarette, and offers you a drag. "But you and O'Neill, aren't you...?"

By Elias' confused expression, you slowly start to realize what he means.

"Aren't we what?"

He smirks. "You gonna make me say it?"

"What gives _everyone_ the idea that we were?"

"Are you kidding?" Elias huffs, "O'Neill's been telling the whole camp you're his girl, and that you two... well, every time he's got R&R, you... keep his bed warm." You make a face, and Elias nods. "I take it you don't. Figures. He'd have to pay someone to like him."

"I don't even want anything to do with the man, but he's the deafest son of a bitch in this platoon when it comes to someone telling him no."

Elias slides in closer to you. "That is probably the best description of Sergeant O'Neill I've heard yet."

You laugh. Elias' eyes close as he revels in the sound of your laughter. A strong, protective urge cocoons him.

 

* * *

 

 

During an NVA raid the next day, Elias finds himself the perfect opportunity to speak his mind.

"Hey, O'Neill."

The redhead turns back in the little hut, stalking over to Elias with a patronizing glare.

"What, sweetheart?"

"Lay off her."

"I'm sorry?" he frowns.

"Don't tell me, tell her." Elias leans against the wall. "You know exactly who I mean."

"You," O'Neill points at him, chewing his gum loudly in Elias' face, "Are meddling in shit you don't wanna meddle in, buddy. I could toss you into a raveen and say Charlie got ya, okay, I can do all of that without barely flexing."

"I invite you to," Elias says, stepping up in the other man's space and unfolding his arms. O'Neill's eyes cast down, and he stutters.

"Just... stay out of my fuckin’ personal life, Elias. Or I'll fuckin’ report you."

Elias watches him go, and shakes his head. Men like O'Neill never learn.

 

* * *

 

 

As the sun goes down and darkness falls over the valleys of Vietnam, you walk from the medical tent toward the nurses' quarters on the other side of the quiet barracks. No matter how beautiful the sunsets were here, you rarely enjoyed them with the screaming of soldiers you treat still ringing in your ears. A few twigs snap behind you, and you turn to see a tall man stumble out of a tent. Irrational fear courses through you.

"Running to Elias with your problems, now?" The sloshing flask of bourbon is clenched in O'Neill's hand, and he takes one last drag on his cigarette before whipping it into a puddle.

"Sergeant--"

"Don't Sergeant O'Neill me, honey, I'm not in the mood." He keeps walking forward, and you back up as he slurs at you. "I-I don't even see how I'm a problem! I'm a great guy, what's-- what's not to love?!"

"Sergeant--" He keeps walking.

"Just answer the goddamn question!"

"Get out of my way!"

"Get BACK here, you little bitch!" O'Neill snaps, and grabs your wrist, jerking you back with force. When he realizes what he did, he lets go and covers his mouth like a frightened little boy. He looks like he's about to cry.

"I'm... s... look, I just-- I need love too, ya know! I-I'm not a heartless prick like some of these other assholes here, I... I deserve love! I'm just..." He breaks down into a blubbery mess. "I-I'm just so  _fucking_  scared!" He cries for a minute, before taking you by your arms, walking you backward toward the forest. You try to jerk your arm away, but he wraps you in an uncomfortable hug.

“Hey--!”

"What the FUCK do you think you're doing with her?!" You both turn, and see Elias storming angrily from the far tent, where his group of friends congregated after hours. You'd never been so happy to see anyone. "Get your hands off her," Elias all but growls, and, seeing how furious the man looks, O'Neill complies, holding his hands up. "You're a fucking piece of work, you know that?" Elias' voice is so low that you can tell just how hard it is for him to contain his anger.

"H-hey, you don't know what the hell you're talking about," O'Neill warns, "Walking around like the caped crusader of the nurses. G-get back here and be a man!"

"You want me to be a man?" Elias nods. O'Neill gets in close, so close Elias can smell the liquor on his breath. His eyes dart around in the dark, flickering with a mixture of nerves and desperation.

"Hey... n-nobody'll know, man. You and me? We could just take her back there, and--" Elias' fist ends that proposition, with a swift punch to O'Neill's jaw. You hold onto his arm, and, leaving the tall man lying in the mud, he takes you by the hand, leading you back to the tent.

 

* * *

 

 

Warmth cascades over you as you enter it, the sound of laughter, the blissful vibe, clouds of smoke, and psychedelic music overtaking you. It's a welcome change from the outside.

"A chick?" King asks, grinning.

“A  _nurse_ ,” Lerner corrects playfully.

"Lay off guys, it's her first time in here," Elias says.

"You mean we're not allowed to scare her?" Rhah jokes, baring his teeth, “It  _is_ the Underworld, man. Baaaaah!”

"She ain't even supposed to be here," Lerner laughs, strumming his guitar, and Elias turns.

"You gonna report me, ya little weasel?" Both of their tones are light-- you can tell already that arguments never get far in here, and every man here is a friend of the others. The young man just smiles easily, taking another hit of whatever he's smoking, and Elias brings you over to a hammock in the corner. You're immediately at ease.

"You okay?" he asks you softly. You nod, but he presses. "Are you sure, (y/n)? Are you really sure?”

“Yeah.”

“It took everything I had not to fry that bastard to a crisp out there, swear to Christ. Men in this war... we think we can do whatever we want out here, no consequences. They ignore the fact that you're a fucking human being."

"Thank you," you say, voice trembling, and he wraps you in a hug. It's nothing like O'Neill's forced contact-- it's gentle, and protective, and you feel eternal just sitting there with him, swinging back and forth.

"You don't need to thank me for being there, flower child," he murmurs back, "...I'll always be there."

Your heart skips a beat. For some reason, that hits home, and makes you feel safer than you've ever felt in your life. Something inside of you aches with longing as you stare at his lips, and you place your hand on his leg. Something in his face changes when he sees you looking at him the way you are, and he tentatively moves in closer. You make no move to evade, so he clutches the back of your head, pressing your lips together. It's sweet, barely there, but you want more, and you kiss him back, reciprocating against his soft lips with a little more passion. You both finally break for air, and he seems surprised. The look you give him tells him not to be, so he relaxes a little.

Your head rests against the nape of his neck, and he takes to softly stroking the base of your head, resting his head against yours. Everyone in the room is half watching, out of the corners of their eyes. Elias still outranks most of them, even after hours, and none of them want to intrude on his privacy. Elias doesn't seem to care, though. He threads his fingers with yours, rocking you both on the hammock, eyes blissfully closed.

"Would you look at that?" Lerner hisses.

King smacks Chris in the arm. "Ain't it cute? Shit, if all I gotta do is bring a chick back to the Underworld to get some pussy, how come I ain't done it yet?"

“Well cause uh, you’re not Elias, and you don’t look like a motherfuckin’ angel like he does,” Chris grins. King gives him a look.

“You wan’ go trade places with her, Chris, suck his dick?” Chris topples backward into Lerner, giggling uncontrollably from the weed and waving his hands wildly. 

"I always said it," Rhah hisses back to the group, philosophizing as usual, "If anyone was going to get a girl, it would be one  _Elias_ Grodin. The soldier... the man... the legend."

 

Your eyelids grow heavy as well over on the hammock, but when he goes to lay you both down, you hesitate.

"’Lias. I'm a nurse," you whisper, "I can't be seen with an officer like this. I'll lose my position. You could lose yours too."

Elias gazes around at everyone. They finally look over now, with confidence.

"Hey," Chris says quietly, laughter subsided, "We won't say anything, man." You two look into the earnest faces of every nodding man in the tent, and rest assured, reclining to hold each other for the rest of the night.

 Elias found himself, as he stared down at the pretty girl in his arms, wishing he never had to let go-- of you, or of this night.

 

* * *

 

 

The next day, you can't shake the good feeling you've had since the night before. Even just the memory of sleeping on top of Elias' chest, while breaking every rule in the handbook, would make this whole thing bearable.

Waking you from your daydream, O'Neill comes up to you, looking extremely unsettled. He's got a bruise forming from where Elias punched him last night, and a slight stagger. He puts his hands up. 

"I'd just like to, uh..." he starts, "I'd like to say how sorry I am, (y/n). Ma’am. For last night.”

“Did you get threatened with a court martial?” You quirk an eyebrow. You wouldn’t put it past Elias to report that incident. 

O’Neill looks down. “Look. I just... got out of hand. I'm not myself when I drink."

You stare him straight in the eyes, refusing to be passive.

"Noted. Red... I know how hard this must be for you. I'm a nurse; I see what you have to deal with first hand. But my responsibilities end at your physical well being. I'm not a comfort girl." You step in closer. "Now stay away from me. If you ever touch me again, I'll give you a bruise bigger than that one." Elias comes up behind you, and puts a hand on your shoulder. O'Neill gets the message, and leaves. 

Elias' hand then drops down your arm, and he curls his pinky finger around yours. It's not much, but for now-- it's enough.


End file.
